


it's only forever, not long at all

by teenagegothintegrity (not_offended)



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, and one of his stims is repeating parts of it to himself, autistic alan, because I say so, because its alans favorite movie, there are so many labyrinth references, this is like. the saddest thing ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_offended/pseuds/teenagegothintegrity
Summary: through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered...
Relationships: Sam Emerson/Alan Frog, its not really like explicit that theyre a couple which is why i labelled this gen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

It was a mistake for them to go. Alan knows that now. He knows, but it's too late. 

He tries to ground himself, tries to focus on the hard stone of the park picnic table he's perched on, but instead all he can think of is the taste of blood in his mouth. 

The only thing keeping him from screaming is going through Labyrinth in his head. He hasn't started from the beginning of the movie in well over a year, but he still remembers how it goes. 

He hasn't stopped rocking since he sat down, and he's not sure exactly how long ago that was. Long enough for him to make it all the way to the scene where Hoggle gives Sarah the peach. 

When he first saw the movie, he loved the ballroom scene. It was beautiful, but just creepy enough to appeal to the horror fan in him. Twisted beauty, spinning and dancing and shattering into hundreds of tiny shards, imprinted forevermore in his memory. 

When he makes it to the scene where Sarah confronts the Goblin King, he is suddenly aware of two sets of footsteps coming toward him. He should've known better than to come here, but all three of them know that he wanted to be found. 

"Al," Sam says, making his way over to the table. "Hey." He rests a gentle hand on Alan's shoulder. "Let's go home, ok?" 

There are so many words he wants to say, but none will come out, so instead he allows himself to be led into the backseat of the truck with his brother. 

Edgar's flannel is comforting in so many ways. Scent, texture, familiarity. He has clutched his brother's arm through many a meltdown, and now is no different. He dives back into Sarah's final stand against the Goblin King, repeating her words like a prayer that will protect him from the evil within himself. 

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen…" 

He has repeated this specific part so many times that it shouldn't surprise him when Edgar starts murmuring along with him. 

Two voices speak his prayer in the backseat. 

"For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great..." 

He hears Sam's voice near the end, and it is three voices that speak the final line, driving home all the meaning that Alan has ascribed to it in that moment. 

"You have no power over me." 

It's true, Alan thinks. With his brother and Sam, there is no beast he cannot conquer, no darkness he cannot face, no evil that can lay claim to his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen....

The nest is long gone when they return. They search, the days turning to weeks, and Alan's prayer cannot save him from the hunger. 

It's Sam that makes the suggestion. It's Edgar who is disgusted by it, and it is Alan who is relieved when it works. 

"It's like eating a burger," he tells his brother, sipping cow's blood from his Frankenstein mug. 

Edgar, who has been a militant vegetarian since he learned what was in his hot dog at the tender age of 7, just makes faces in response. "I guess it's better than you chowing down on a person," he finally admits after a couple days. 

Things get better after that. Now that he can think about something other than his hunger, he can return his attention to finding the monster who made him this way. 

He buries himself in the newspapers, looking for any clues in the forms of missing persons reports and murders. He walks the streets at night, venturing into places he doesn't want his more fragile teammates to visit. 

He finds nothing. 

They continue to hunt regularly, gathering bits and pieces of information before delivering final blows, and eventually they find something. 

A vampire, one who spent time in the building where Alan was turned, one who fits the description. 

But his face is not the one Alan sees in his all too common nightmares, and he feels nothing when Sam drives a stake into the vampire's chest. 

"Nothing's changed," he reluctantly admits. "He wasn't the one." 

"So we keep looking, and we find the right one," Edgar growls, pushing himself up off the floor. 

They keep looking. They spend months tracking and killing vampire after vampire, and none of them are the one. 

Alan gives up after the 7th failure. Edgar and Sam don't stop trying, and Alan doesn't stop pretending to have hope. 

* * *

  
It's gradual, but it happens. They settle into a new normal, the three of them going back to work, and school in Sam's case, having regular dinners and movie nights and the occasional hunt. It's easier now that Alan has something he can eat. He's less snappish, less likely to have to be overwhelmed by the constant beating of the human hearts all around him, and sometimes he can even forget that anything has changed, if just for a little while. 

Things are different, of course. There are thick curtains in their bedroom now, and Alan has a mug of warm pig's blood in the morning instead of coffee. He has to wear sunglasses when he leaves the house during the day, and they don't go to the beach when the sun is up anymore. Despite the difficulties, things are ok. Good, even. 

But all good things must end. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great...

It's been three years. Things have gone bad. It seems like Alan's symptoms get worse with each passing day. He can barely stand to be outside in the daylight anymore, and can't stomach real food unless he's recently fed. The animal blood barely helps; he could drain an entire cow and still be hungry. 

He spends a lot of time in Sam's old room, afraid to be around either of his human roommates. He hasn't been to work in months, and his former coworkers still call and ask about him occasionally. 

One night, he wakes up and knows that something is wrong. He lays there for several long minutes, racking his brain on what could be different, when he realizes that his heart isn't beating. He holds his breath, focusing on where his heartbeat should be, and while his lungs don't burn from the lack of oxygen, he feels like he's suffocating nonetheless. 

He finds himself pacing his room, shaking his hands furiously, as if trying to shake away what has happened to him. 

"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered," he mumbles to himself, switching from shaking his hands to scratching at his arms. 

He and Sam had discussed the possibility. With the way the intensity of his symptoms had been steadily increasing over the years, they had come to the conclusion that it might be possible for the change to simply force itself without a kill being made. 

"I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen…"

He tried not to think about it, and neither of them talked to Edgar about it, not wanting to worry him. He hoped that Sam had some kind of plan for dealing with him, if it happened. If he turned fully and became a danger. 

"For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great…" 

The problem now is that he still feels like himself. He doesn't feel like a monster, like he wants to hurt Sam or Edgar or anyone else. 

But the hunger is steadily rising within him, stronger than it has ever been, and somehow he knows that pig's blood won't cut it this time. He will need to feed on a person. 

The thought doesn't fill him with disgust. Truthfully, it hasn't disgusted him in a long time; he had just never really let himself dwell on it. 

Now, however, it feels like something he could do. Something he  _ needs  _ to do, because the alternative is waiting for his brother to get home and testing his control against this bottomless pit inside of him, and that is a fight he knows he would lose tonight. 

He can't bring himself to say the last line, because he knows it to be a lie. The beast within has finally overtaken him; blurring the line between it and himself. It has all the power in the world over him. 

Sam and Edgar are both at work. He will be alone for at least another two hours. He could do it. 

And he does. He leaves the house in his worn green Converse and his old black hoodie that Sam bought him for his 17th birthday. He looks like the old Alan, the human one. But that Alan is gone, and this new version needs to eat. 

He finds a guy standing in the alley next to a nearby bar. He offers Alan a cigarette, and Alan offers him teeth. 

He drinks his fill in the alley, and when he's done he leaves the corpse in a dumpster. He thought he would feel nothing, but instead he is overcome with emotion. He feels full for the first time in years, and stronger than he's ever been. Free. Unafraid. The blood was like nothing he had ever tasted, it was like life itself, like an ice cold cherry cola on a hot day, like sucking in a breath after being underwater for too long, like all of his favorite things rolled into one. 

By the time he gets home, he's positively buzzing with energy, flapping his hands and wiggling excitedly as he makes his way into the apartment. 

It's still empty. He was careful when he fed, not making much of a mess, but he goes to the bathroom to shower anyway, if only for something to do. 

He spends several long minutes staring at himself in the mirror. He had been thankful, when he was still halfway, that he could see his reflection while in his own home, and he's glad that it's the same now. One less thing to hide from his brother. 

For the first time since he was turned, he allows his face to change in full view of the mirror. 

He had changed before, but never on purpose, and never where he could see himself. He hadn't wanted to see, to have to look at himself with yellow eyes and fangs and a monstrous face. 

But now it's interesting. The way he can feel his face  _ shift _ , the way his eyes seem to glow, even under the cheap fluorescent bathroom lights. 

Edgar comes home halfway through Alan's shower, while he's holding the shampoo and staring blankly at the wall. He snaps back to himself when he hears the front door open, unable to remember what he had just been thinking about. He finishes up quickly, and leaves the bathroom wrapped in the same black hoodie he had worn earlier. It still smells like blood, even if none is visible. 

He knocks on the wall near the kitchen entrance to greet his brother, who jumps at the noise and spins to face him with accusing eyes. 

Alan smirks a bit at Edgar's indignant expression. 

"I wasn't  _ scared _ ," Edgar explains with a frown, answering Alan's unspoken teasing. "I was  _ startled _ ; there's a difference."

He blinks lazily, still smirking, in a way that says  _ sure there is _ . His eyes follow Edgar's movements as he sets his lunchbox on the counter and fills his water bottle from the tap, before placing it in the freezer. 

"You're being weird," Edgar observes, prickly from a day of heavy lifting and cart pushing, and now having to deal with eyes following his every move. "Quit staring. Are you hungry, or what?"

_ Always hungry _ , Alan signs, but this time it's a lie. He can still remember the rush of fresh blood in his mouth, the flesh between his teeth.

"Yeah, well, why don't you eat something, so you stop looking at me like that?" 

Alan decides to indulge his brother, and warms up a mug of cow blood in the microwave, idly chewing on the chain of his dog tags while he waits for it. 

Maybe nothing has to change. Maybe he can just keep pretending to be half, and Edgar never has to know. Sam, however, he thinks will understand. He had understood when Michael shared stories of his time with the vampires in Santa Carla. He had understood when Alan told him exactly how tempting it was to just feed and end the suffering. He will understand this time. Alan can't just keep this to himself; he needs to share how wonderful everything is. 

They can work on Edgar's views together. 

The microwave dings, and he removes his now warm mug of blood. It isn't good by any means, and he doesn't hide his slight grimace from his brother. 

Edgar makes a face right back at him. "Don't be a baby, it's better than the alternative." 

Alan wants to tell him the truth, that the alternative is far, far better. Maybe one day, he'll show him how much better it is. 

He likes the thought of that, of showing his brother and Sam what the other side is like, without the pain and fear and weakness of being human. He can't hide the excited wiggle he does at the idea. 

"What's got you so hyped up?" Edgar smiles at him, just a bit. He knows his brother has been worried about him, scared that the hunger was going to overpower him at any moment, scared that even if it didn't, he might still be damaged beyond repair. 

He wishes he could just tell him. Tell him that he hadn't given up until it was already too late. Tell him that he didn't have to worry anymore. 

But instead he just shrugs and makes the sign for  _ happy. _

"I can see you're happy," Edgar says, amused. "Just having a good day?" 

Alan nods. Technically, it was the truth. 

It's nice to just putter around the apartment with his brother. Edgar changes out of his work clothes and tells Alan about his day. He smiles more that night than he has in months, just happy that his brother isn't spending the night hiding away in Sam's old room. 

Alan's missed sharing a room with Edgar and Sam. They had started out with Sam in his own room, but then Alan started sleeping in Sam's bed with him. Eventually, they noticed that Edgar wasn't sleeping well anymore, unused to being alone all night, and Alan and Sam switched to sharing Alan's bed. It would be nice to go back to sharing their space. 

He's always known that vampires are pack oriented, but now he feels it first hand, the instinct to create a family, to have a nest. He only hopes he will be able to convince Edgar and Sam. 

The evening is even better when Sam gets home. Their little family feels complete, with Edgar making his lunch for the next day and Sam doing homework at the kitchen table. Alan picks up a dog eared copy of The Hobbit and takes a seat next to Sam. 

He missed this, when he was spending his days and nights locked in Sam's room, only venturing out while they were at work and school. He missed the quiet evenings, missed watching TV together while eating dinner, missed listening to Edgar yell at the people in horror movies for being stupid, missed the way Sam laughs at dumb commercials. 

After dinner, Alan taps Sam's arm to get his attention and makes the sign for  _ beach _ . 

Sam's face instantly brightens. Alan hadn't wanted to leave the house in weeks, for fear of snapping and hurting someone. He missed their night time walks. 

They had both forgotten how nice the sand felt between their bare toes, the coolness of the ocean splashing over their feet and dampening the bottoms of their rolled jeans. 

He and Sam walk the beach for a while, simply enjoying the comfortable quiet between them. Eventually, they end up under the dock, fingers entwined, knees pulled up under their chins. 

"It happened," Alan says, breaking his several hours long silence. "Like we talked about." 

Sam doesn't react, apart from a sharp inhale. But he lets the breath out slowly, sagging bonelessly against Alan's shoulder. "Have you eaten anyone?" 

"Yeah," Alan says, because he's never been able to lie to Sam. "Animal blood won't help me anymore."

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam says, so softly that the wind might've carried the words away if not for Alan's enhanced hearing. 

"Don't be," he says. "It's not… I'm not hungry all the time anymore. I'm not afraid. And I still love you. It's everything I need it to be." 

He can see the way Sam is worrying his lip. "I love you the way you are," he assures him, before he can voice his fears. "I won't ask you to change. But it's… It's amazing, Sam. Everything is different. I think you would like it." 

"That's not… Alan, I love you, but I can't just let you kill innocent people." 

"Well, what about guilty people?" 

Sam laughs, even as the tears in his eyes start to stream down his face. "You were always so soft," he says into Alan's shoulder. "Not like me and Edgar… How can you just… How can you hurt people?" 

Alan has to contemplate that for a moment. He knows he was soft when he was human, hell, even when he was still half. He would rather handle sharpening the stakes and reading the lore than the actual bloodshed. That was what Edgar and Sam were good at. 

He's not sure what exactly has changed. He thinks he would still rather sharpen stakes and read lore than participate in a fight, but when it comes to feeding? He can't bring himself to feel anything regarding the life he took earlier that evening. 

"It's just not there anymore," he says. "It's like something--something just sort of clicked. It's like eating a burger." 

Sam laughs again, wetly, and Alan can feel his tears begin to soak through his hoodie. "It's gonna be ok, Sam," he says softly. 

"Yeah," Sam replies, voice choked with emotion. "I think, one day, maybe things will be ok again." He shifts next to Alan and then--

For the second time that night, Alan feels like he is suffocating. The stake seems to take up all the room in his body, not leaving space for anything but Sam's warm hands caressing his face, his lips kissing apologies into his skin, but even Sam cannot cover the pain spreading throughout his body. 

"I love you, I love you," Sam is sobbing. "But I can't let you hurt people. I can't let you make me and Edgar into monsters." 

Alan can't even bring himself to be mad. This is Sam. Sam wouldn't do this to him unless he felt that he really needed to, unless he felt that the real Alan was well and truly dead. 

He only wishes he could've said goodbye to Edgar. 

"It's ok," he says, calmly, like he can't feel the wood in his heart, can't feel his shiny new eternity blinking out of existence. And then he doesn't feel anything but Sam's warm hands, and then even that is gone. 

* * *

Alone on the beach, ashes mixing with sand, Sam clutches Alan's dog tags and weeps.


End file.
